Justin FinchFletchley and the Normal Teenage Prob
by Lassiter
Summary: lem. Cursed be space constraints. An MS fic on its head: Mary Sue as a side character in a Hufflepuff’s life instead of the other way around. So, as she saves the world and shags her way through fanon, the Hufflepuff house goes about its daily busines
1. Day 1

**Spoilers:** CoS, PoA, GoF  
**Summary:** I set out on a quest to find the answer to the age-old question, 'Why is it that Hufflepuffs completely disappear from fanon?' After much fasting, the answer came to me in the mist of pre-dawn light after three weeks of meditation: 'Because they're too smart to get caught up in that sort of thing, that's why. Now get off my sacred mountain and for heaven's sake, go take a shower, you filthy hippie.'  
Thus it was that, as Hogwarts slowly falls into the clutches of fanon, the Hufflepuff house goes about its daily business. Justin Finch-Fletchley, this is your life.  
**Disclaimer:** This is based on characters and situations I did not create or am profitting financially from. That would be JK Rowling and her people.  
**Author notes:** Apologies to anyone who actually has an OC named Arialynne or something similar. This is all in good fun, to be taken with a grain of salt. Thanks to Kitty Daykin for beta-reading.  


~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  


**_Chapter One \\_**

Justin Finch-Fletchley was running out of days and options. Or so he wished. He was actually only running out of days, as he didn't touch any of his options yet. At least if he had no options he would have a justifiable reason to feel panicked.

The list scrawled at the back of an old History of Magic test read:

Girls to ask out to the Halloween dance

Parvati Patil

Susan Bones

Mandy Brocklehurst

the American transfer student in Potions

There was a checkbox before each number and none of them were checked.

It was lunchtime and the Hufflepuff common room was conveniently empty for anyone who wanted some privacy, which a certain Hufflepuff did. Justin stretched out on the couch, clutching a dog-eared paper to his chest, and lost in thought.

What _was _the new girl's name again? Justin was usually very good with names, and he didn't understand when people couldn't remember where the L's and E's go in his last name. The girl had such a complicated name, though. Elianora... Aurorialynne... Nynavinariavynne... something. He resigned himself to calling her "Excuse me, miss" when asking to pass the boomslang skin.

Justin supposed the girl was pretty enough, even if the big purple eyes were kind of creepy. But truth be told, she intimidated him. Not on purpose, though; Justin didn't think she would do something like that. The girl even said on her first day of class that her biggest personality flaws were having too much love to give and stubborn loyalty towards loved ones. That was why she was in Slytherin. However, her constant references to Muggle pop culture left him twitching, as did the spats with Draco Malfoy through which she displayed her wit, which she apparently learnt from bumper stickers and novelty key chains.

Justin reached over to the table, picked up his quill, and dipped it into the inkwell he brought. He thus proceeded to draw a thick black line across Number Four. After a moment of reflection, he crossed out Number Two as well. Susan was too much of a good friend anyway, and he only put her on the list so he had options from all four houses. Justin looked at the last two names in mild triumph.

Justin Finch-Fletchley was running out of days and options. He felt justifiably panicked.

-

"Where were you during lunch?" Susan Bones whispered in Muggle Studies.

Justin looked up from the chapter he was reading about the pros and cons of airplanes compared to broomsticks. "Sorry, what?"

"Lunch," his seatmate repeated. "You weren't there. They had lemon pudding."

Justin shrugged. "I can live without lemon pudding."

"What were you doing?"

"Nothing much. I was just in the common room. Wasn't hungry."

"Oh, alright," said Susan in the manner of those who thought they had something more exciting to say. "Guess what?"

"What?"

"Terry Boot asked me to go with him to the Halloween dance!" she whispered with an excited grin on her face.

Justin inwardly sighed with relief. It was a good decision crossing her out after all. "That's wonde-"

"Bones? Justin?" Professor Falkirk sharply interrupted. "Are you finished with your assignment? Your relaxed chatter tells me you are."

"Sorry, Professor," they chorused automatically, and turned back to their textbooks.

Just as Justin reached the paragraph that explained the oxymoron 'in-flight meals', a crumpled slip of violently pink paper dropped onto his book. He recognised it as part of the Post Its packet Ernie Macmillan had given Susan as a parting gift when they broke up last year. Justin raised an eyebrow at Susan but she was already pretending to be engrossed in her work.

The note read, _'_Have you asked someone to go with you yet? -S._'_ Blushing, Justin crumpled the note again and kept it clutched in his fist. He determinedly turned back to his reading.

_"Although in-flight meals vary from flight to flight, they all share certain similarities, such as the drinks in plastic cups with the Peel Back lid that you can't open without spilling its contents all over yourself. Other ubiquitous foods include cold, tasteless margarine and the crumbly bread you cannot spread it on."_

Another crumpled Post It dropped onto his book.

'Why did you do that?' the note demanded. 'Does that mean you haven't asked? If you haven't I'll see if I can set you up. Don't crumple up this note, too.'

Justin crumpled up this note, too. He heard an offended sniff beside him and there were no more Post Its after that.

As much as he wanted to focus on the different varieties of airline food, Justin found it difficult to concentrate now that Susan had brought up that topic again. Who _was _he going to ask? During the Yule Ball in fourth year he spent half the evening playing poker in the common room with a few friends, and the rest of it sneaking to the lakeside to fashionably brood about the future and yap about how much cooler they were than all those losers dancing at that stupid ball.

A strong feeling in his gut told Justin not to do that again. Ever.

He reckoned he'd probably ask Mandy Brocklehurst first. They were friends already, or at least they played tic tac toe together in Ancient Runes when the lectures got too boring.

There was a reason Parvati Patil was number one on the list, though.

Justin's seat was by the window and, for the umpteenth time this year, he stared outside, looking for the groundskeeper's hut. The Gryffindors and Slytherins had Care of Magical Creatures this period and sometimes, if he squinted, he'd see Parvati inching away from something with too many eyes, or standing idly under a tree pretending to be useful while her classmates got their ears yanked by Hibernian Gnomes.

Justin couldn't really see them today. Or rather, he did but couldn't tell them apart because they were all running so fast. Out above Hagrid's hut, an adolescent Manx Redtail flew in lazy circles and casually breathed fire at nearby trees. The Redtail, fascinated by the pretty flapping school robes, flew after the Gryffindors and Slytherins in the disconcerting direction of straight to the castle.

Justin raised his hand.

Falkirk sat back and flicked to another page of the latest issue of _Witches 'n Bitches_ hidden in his marks book, picking his teeth with his wand. The Care of Magical Creatures class's panicked screams filtered through the window slats and Justin wondered if anyone else could hear them. When he looked, however, his class was too busy looking busy and escaping the consequences of Falkirk's detention fetish.

"Professor?" Justin ventured.

"Five points from Hufflepuff for disrupting class. Go back to work," said Falkirk without batting an eyelash. The Hufflepuffs glared at him then discreetly made rude gestures at Justin.

"But, sir, a drag-"

Susan slapped a Post It note on his mouth. He peeled it off. In her rush she only managed to scribble 'shu...' before it trailed off into a wiggly line, but he could guess what it would say.

With a sigh, Justin turned his attention back out the window. He imagined himself standing over the ashes of Hogwarts and the charred skeleton of his Muggle Studies professor, sadly shaking his head and muttering, "I tried to warn him. I did try." Parvati would come up beside him and put a comforting arm around his shoulder.

Justin was startled from his daydream by the sight of Harry Potter and the transfer student with the name suddenly jumping up from behind a large bush when Vincent Crabbe ran past, shrieking high C at the top of his lungs. Harry had his robes on backwards. His glasses somehow ended up on the girl, who was still looking for her robes. Upon seeing the dragon, Harry did some screaming of his own on G, while someone in the distance yelled B flat, and the three of them made a passable C7 chord.

When that was out of his system, Harry whipped out his wand and attempted some heroic dragon-slaying. The Redtail looked blankly at the fireworks Potter shot at its belly, then looked blankly at Harry. A few moments later, it blankly breathed fire in Harry's direction and Harry scampered away, hemline aflame.

Through all this, Justin skimmed the ground for Parvati and saw she was nowhere in sight. She ought to be safe, and felt guilty at the disappointment that followed.

A new fantasy unfolded in his mind: Parvati lying helpless on the ground as the Redtail circles closer and closer. Summoning a broom, he would fly through the window of his Muggle Studies classroom and shoot powerful hexes at the dragon while doing fancy loops and dives. "Oh, Justin!" Parvati would cry in grateful joy, and throw herself into his arms.

The other girl - the Potter-snogger, now fully dressed - shook out her long golden tresses and looked at the Redtail with a gaze of fire and ice that could cut through steel, melt butter, and make fluffy animals automatically like her. She held up her wand menacingly and began to chant a long-winded spell. In the meanwhile, the dragon decided to decimate the Herbology garden.

This was when Hagrid raced in with a saves-the-day expression on his face, clutching something shiny in his hand. The groundskeeper glared grimly at the Redtail. The girl continued her wand-waving and chanting, eyes rolled back in her head as in a trance.

Hagrid knelt a few yards behind her and held the shiny object to his lips. Justin's eyes widened. A dragon whistle! At the same time that Hagrid blew the whistle, a blast of golden light appeared from the girl's wand and shot straight up to the Redtail. And missed, although Justin thought the people on the ground couldn't possibly see that from their angle.

The Redtail floated gently back to the ground. The girl, looking pleased with herself, ran forward to pat the dragon's snout. As it was still in the whistle-induced stupor, it didn't bite her arm off. Hagrid breathed a sigh of relief and wiped his forehead with a kerchief. The smile on his face faded away, however, when a crowd of gawping students gathered around the transfer student with the bad aim, congratulating her. She accepted their praise with a modest, blushing smile.

_Well then_, Justin thought, feeling ready to go back to the in-flight meals. _That was interesting. I didn't think about the Halloween dance even once throughout._

_...Oh crap._

-

"...and so it is with great pleasure that I bestow the First Order of Merlin Award upon such a deserving recipient," announced Dumbledore at dinner that evening. She Whose Name Cannot Be Pronounced stood by his side, a gleaming badge pinned onto the front of her robes. The teachers smiled approvingly, except for Hagrid, who sulked into his bouillabaisse; and Snape, who stared at the girl with anguished, conflicted eyes.

"She is a shining example to us all," Dumbledore continued. Not only does she have sparkling violet eyes and long flowing sun-streaked hair, she also tamed a dragon, saved her class from certain death..."

Parvati nodded approvingly and exchanged a few words with Lavender Brown. She then picked up her knife and fork and began to eat her cutlets. While chewing her second bite, she picked up her napkin and dabbed at her mouth.

"Oy!"

Someone smacked Justin very hard on the back of his head.

"Ow! What the-!" He glared at Michael Corner seated beside him. "What was that for?"

Michael winced and blew on his hand. "Bloody hell, you've got a thick head."

"You won't have a head anymore if you don't-" He swatted at Michael, who dodged. Eleanor Branstone beside Michael gave him an irritated look. Michael shrugged guilelessly and turned back to Justin. "It's obvious you like her, you git, so you might as well ask her to the dance. _That's _what that was for."

"...magically re-grew all of the plants in the Herbology garden; revived Professor Hagrid's dog that had fainted from shock at the dragon..."

"Ask who?" said Justin.

"Denial isn't just a river in Egypt," Michael began.

"Yes, I've heard," Justin cut in. "That's why it's called a cliché."

Michael sighed. "Well, Egypt's got it, but here at Hogwarts we've just got a lake with a giant squid, so my point is you might as well accept it and ask Parvati to the dance."

Across the table Susan Bones, who had been listening with inerest, decided to jump in. "You like Parvati, is it?" She kicked Justin under the table. "You idiot, you didn't even tell me."

"...fixed Dean Thomas's broken arm with her mysterious healing powers of unknown origin..."

"I don't... didn't tell anyone," Justin finally admitted. He sighed.

"You better ask her before anyone else does," Susan smiled.

Justin glanced at the Gryffindor table. Parvati was laughing at something Lavender said. "She'll say no."

"How do you know?" Susan and Michael chorused. Justin turned red.

"...gave our spontaneously-returned Professor Lupin reason to live by helping him to exorcise his inner demons and come to terms with his intimacy issues and the fact that he likes men..." At this, Professor Lupin grinned and waved at everyone.

"I was thinking of asking Mandy Brocklehurst," said Justin.

"Oh," said Michael. "That could work."

Susan rolled her eyes. "No, it _wouldn't_, silly. He has to ask the one he likes. He has to ask Parvati. It'll be more special. It _has _to be special." She gave Justin an encouraging grin. "Ask her tonight."

"Fuck no," said Justin matter-of-factly.

"...also, as apparently everyone chose this year to come out of the closet, Arialynne helped Draco Malfoy realise _his _sexuality and true feelings for Harry Potter..." Dumbledore consulted his notes. "Or was it Ron Weasley?"

"Look," Michael sighed. "Just because I'm an easily intimidated Hufflepuff with not enough self-esteem to ask a girl to the dance, it doesn't mean you have to be."

"You haven't got a date either?" said Susan.

"I don't mind going alone that much," Michael shrugged.

Susan sighed and fiddled with her spaghetti. "What is wrong with Hufflepuff men? It's like ever since Cedric kicked the bucket, you all turned into pathetic wimps."

"...unless Draco is bisexual and snogging Hermione Granger..."

"I think the pathetic wimps thing happened a long time ago," said Justin, pushing around the potatoes on his plate.

Michael chuckled. "Hey, he made a funny. Besides, Susan," he said, fixing her with an impish grin, "I thought you like Hufflepuff men. You dated one last year."

She scowled. "He gave me Post Its for a break-up gift! _Post Its_, for heaven's sake! No, Ernie Macmillan does not count."

"Well, in any case," Michael drawled, "you're now loyally following in Cedric Diggory's footsteps now, aren't you? Maintaining good Hufflepuff-Ravenclaw relations." He grinned impishly. "How good _are_ they?"

"You're a prat, Corner," said Susan, but she blushed.

"...Mr. Malfoy, remind me again who exactly is your destined soulmate who you will love for all time?"

"Himself!" shouted Ron Weasley, and the Great Hall burst into laughter, including the Slytherin table.

To Justin's simultaneous relief and disappointment, Michael and Susan stopped their badgering after the laughter died down and began to discuss what they would wear to the dance. ("I think I'll go as a witch. What about you?" "I don't know. Maybe a wizard. We can be twins.") At the Gryffindor table, Parvati ruffled Ron's hair. Justin stared at his food.

-

"Ernie?"

Grunt.

"Ernie?"

Grunt.

"Ernie?"

There was a rustle of sheets as Ernie rolled over and shoved his head under his pillow.

"Say that there was this girl you liked and you think you might want to ask her to the Halloween dance but maybe you don't, and she might say no, would you?"

Ernie snored a very deliberate-sounding snore.

"And she's nice and all and you're friends, kind of - well, you sit behind her in Transfiguration - but at least you know each other's names and that's good enough of a start to ask her, right?"

A pregnant pause ensued, then Ernie's muffled voice wafted from the next bed over. "Are you not at all concerned with the fact that you are being a stupid, annoying little git?"

"No," said Justin. "I wasn't the one who got attacked by charmed Post Its after I gave my girlfriend a crappy present."

"...Point taken."

"Colin Creevey took photos."

"I said point taken."

"No, photos."

There was another pregnant pause.

"Haha," said Justin. "Just pulling your leg."

"...Sure. Listen, Justin, whatever it is, maybe we can talk about it in the morning, yeah?"

"Can you take the pillow off your face? I can barely understand you."

There was a shuffling sound from the next bed as Ernie did just that, and an 'oomph' sound from Justin when Ernie's pillow hit its mark.

"Now shut the bloody fuck up." Ernie grappled for his wand on the nightstand and swished it around a few times as he mumbled some spell or other. The curtains around Ernie's bed jerked shut.

So much for some Macmillan McLovin advice Ernie was always going on about. Despite the Post-Its incident, Ernie was actually quite good with the ladies; he and Hannah Abbott were now _the _couple. It was just that he had wonky gift ideas.

Maybe Justin shouldn't have woken him up in the middle of the night after all. But in the daytime _anyone _could be listening in. They'd _know _about him_, _they'd know about _Parvati_, and they'd know about the lack of a conjunction between the two.

_So?_ said the rational part of his mind. _You're older, and wiser, and braver than you were as a fourth year, so surely you can stand facing your feelings for a girl?_

He wondered whether he really would, after the tossing and turning and contemplating, ask Parvati Patil to the dance. Could he be so ruthless? The dance was on Saturday. More specifically: it was the day after tomorrow. Even more specifically: aaaaargh. Could he be so ruthless tomorrow? To march to the Gryffindor table at breakfast and proclaim to her, "You. Me. Shake booty."

Justin decided he was the biggest wimp he knew.

===

(tbc. r&r?)


	2. Day 2 Pt 1

Spoilers: SS/PS, CoS, PoA  
  
DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.  
  
Author notes: Thanks to my beta, Kitty Daykin. Apologies to anyone who actually has an OC named Arialynne or something similar. No offense is meant; it's just all in good fun here.  
Chapter Two \\  
  
They moved on to hangman. It's difficult to win at tic tac toe when one of both of you isn't incomprehensibly stupid. Mandy tried to teach him a modified version where you charm the X's and O's to attack each other but the first time Justin tried the spell, he made Mandy's notes disappear off the page. She wouldn't play with him for a week after that.  
  
Hangman it was.  
  
It was Mandy's turn to guess and Justin's stomach was in knots. Two voices had been screaming in his head ever since breakfast, when he tried to convince himself Parvati Patil didn't exist. One went "ask Mandy!!!" and the other went "don't ask Mandy!!!" For the greater good, he decided to quash the "don't ask Mandy!!!" voice and spent the few minutes before class dithering, pottering, vacillating, as well as indulging in some dawdling just for good measure.  
  
On the back of Justin's essay about Dwarfish runes could be seen the following:  
  
_ I L L _ O U _ O T O T H E D A N _ E _ I T H _ E  
  
"Odd," Mandy mused softly. "I've never heard of this book title."  
  
No repeats of the Yule Ball, he thought firmly, strategically choosing to ignore her last comment.  
  
"R?" Mandy tried.  
  
"No." Justin drew one more limb on the stick figure and turned back to the lesson, leaving her to tackle the thinly disguised invitation. Or at least he thought it was thinly disguised. He wondered if Mandy had gotten enough sleep last night, or if she already knew and was just politely pretending.  
  
"Ahdjk afdosj bmwn jksnv, vtavv!" said the professor cheerily. "Dsah sadfjkhxmew fs!"  
  
One of the reasons Ancient Runes remained one of the most unpopular classes in Hogwarts was Professor Effusia's penchant for lecturing in the language she was teaching. To attempt and survive the class, a few students did manage to order the scandalously expensive Translating Quill (English Language Version) through Flourish and Blotts last year. These were the ones used by high-ranking journalists from the International Wizard Tribune or WNN, and were available in a variety of languages. In pursuit of thoroughness, the company even had specified vernaculars, which caused problems for some people. Lisa Turpin, who was known for her anal retentiveness, almost broke down when her Translation Quill refused to write U's and put Z's where S's were supposed to be.  
  
The Quills quickly wore themselves out under the duress of Professor Sabine 'when does she ever breath?' Effusia's barrage of Old Mermish. Their translations, much to the students' anguish, became illegible. The best way to pass this class was to cling for dear life to the textbook. Having a few good contacts with the Merpeople in the lake helped, too. This year, however, they've moved on to High Troll, and so far nobody was willing to go out to the Forbidden Forest to employ one as a tutor.  
  
"Gdishfo nampcr!" chirped Professor Effusia, and began to write something on the board.  
  
Justin dipped his quill into his inkwell and began to take notes. In truth he liked languages. Even before the whole magic thing started he liked to watch the German existentialist movies his uncle collected, and wholly supported his grandmother's fondness for Spanish telenovelas. He liked understanding words. It gives him a sense of superiority that when he spends summers in the country with his family, he knows those noises are not the mating call of the greater kingfisher, as his father claims, but forest gnomes making fun of Finch-Fletchley Senior's large nose.  
  
"W?" came Mandy's voice beside him.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Is there a W in this?" She tapped the hangman game.  
  
"Oh. Er, over here. And here, too." He scribbled them in.  
  
"And a C?"  
  
"Here."  
  
Mandy filled in the rest of the blanks herself. Justin jammed his eyeballs to the periphery, trying to see her reaction. Mandy nibbled at her quill- tip contemplatively.  
  
"Strange," she said. "Our category was title of books published last year and I don't recall ever coming across this one. Who's it by?"  
  
Justin resisted the urge to hit her. He was beginning to question the Sorting Hat's decision about Mandy Brocklehurst. "Justin Finch-Fletchley," he answered.  
  
Mandy raised an eyebrow. "Oh?" And then somewhere, somehow, something clicked. "Oh!" she exclaimed, and turned a shade of scarlet.  
  
-  
  
Stupid Pucey, fucking Pucey, stupid fucking Adrian Pucey.  
  
Mandy Brocklehurst was going to the Halloween dance with [see above]. Their conversation tapered off awkwardly after this revelation and they plodded through the rest of the class taking extra long notes. When class was over, Justin quickly gathered his things and was one of the first out the door. He descended the staircase two steps at a time.  
  
He had all the emotions ready, too! The guilt from using a friend who trusted him because he was too much of a wimp to go after what he really wanted. The angst from not even trying to go after what he really wanted. There were even the self-confidence issues - some of which would have stemmed from the former two - all ready to go. It had all been ready to unfold and bloom and Mandy Brocklehurst was going with Adrian Pucey. The angst and self-confidence issue were still viable, but devoid of Mandy- shaped shields he would only have himself to blame this time.  
  
At the foot of the stairs, Justin heard voices coming from a side corridor.  
  
"So. will you?" someone was asking. Male. Old.  
  
"I'm sorry," another person replied. Female. A student. She sounded absolutely heartbroken. "You know how I feel. but. we can't."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because we can't."  
  
The man sighed, sounding equally heartbroken. "I. I understand."  
  
The conversation sounded private and clandestine, and Justin did what anyone else would do. Separating himself from the students going to their next class, he tiptoed closer and tried to get a better listen.  
  
"Oh, Severus, don't look so sad."  
  
Justin's eyes bugged out of his head. Snape?! What the hell was Snape. was this even legal? Back in his hometown, there'd be a public picketing for Snape's head and probably a raffling off for the rest of his body. Justin was aware that the wizarding world has different views on certain issues, however, and he wondered if this was one of them. 'Statutory rape? Eh, why not.' Maybe.  
  
He inched closer to darkened corridor, pressing his back against the wall. Ninety degrees away, Professor Snape and his mystery lady continued their exchange unawares.  
  
"Why can't I show my true feelings?" Snape whispered passionately. "Am I not allowed to be sad?"  
  
"But you look so beautiful when you're sad."  
  
"You don't want me to be beautiful, Arialynne?"  
  
Arialynne! That was the name of the transfer student! Ah, he knew it would come eventually. Arialynne. With Snape? Justin knew there was something shifty about that girl.  
  
Well, at least something came out of this most unfortunate intrusion. Now all he had to do was escape very fast before the conversation made him take his eyes out with his wand. He couldn't run now, however. The hall was empty and his footsteps would be very audible.  
  
"If you continue being beautiful, I might just fall in love with you," said Arialynne.  
  
"You mean like how I fell in love with you?" said Snape softly.  
  
Something about the words made Justin's rational mind scream in horror and try to go in eight different directions at once; anywhere, basically, as long as it wasn't within earshot of trashyromancenovel!Snape. It tripped over its own feet and stayed where it fell, gibbering.  
  
"I don't know what I'd have done without you, Arialynne," said Snape.  
  
"Severus, you musn't do this to yourself," said the tender young jailbait, sounding tearful. "You and Lupin are in love. Don't let me get in the way."  
  
"I love Remus. and yet. and yet I know you, my love, as you know me. I know that you are perfect." Snape lowered his voice. "So perfect."  
  
"Oh, Severus!"  
  
"Arialynne!"  
  
And then came the unmistakeable sounds of snogging.  
  
I reckon you better get up now, said Justin's gag reflex, nudging the fallen rational mind with a foot, and tell Justin's legs to get us the fuck out of here.  
  
Gumblefoozlewaah, rationality gibbered.  
  
Oh, come now, said the gag reflex reproachfully. Pull your weight, will you! Hurry up before the mental images decimate you completely.  
  
Bloobywoozles, it replied. Oomblawatzeltoss.  
  
The gag reflex sighed. I was hoping it wouldn't come to this, but for the greater good. It whipped out a cattle prod and gave the rational mind a stern tap.  
  
Yee!  
  
"Yee!" Justin agreed, and sprinted for the doorway.  
  
-  
  
On the way to Transfiguration, Justin tried to organise the questions stampeding madly around in his head. He tried to put them to a list. 'Will I ever sleep again?' was somewhere near the top, as was 'what brand of glue have they been sniffing?' Number one, however, was 'why is everyone getting some and I'm not?' Feeling quite discouraged, his mind turned, as usual, to the violent thoughts that he learned solely from watching American cop shows and listening to his brother's Korn records.  
  
He began devising clever ways to smite them all. The perfect, sickening (in more ways than one) lovebirds. You'd think Noah was building another ark with the way everyone's been paired off. So engrossed was he in the precise mechanisms it would involve to pull Terry Boot's intestines out his anus that he crashed into someone turning the next corner.  
  
"Oh, bloody. ah. Sorry about that. Are you alright?"  
  
Justin, still fallen on the floor, stared up with saucer-wide eyes as his mind tried to do the eight-different-directions trick again, but for a completely different reason.  
  
"Are you alright?" Parvati Patil repeated, eyebrows creased in concern.  
  
"Urk," Justin replied. "Erm. Arh. Hurr."  
  
For a moment Justin was confused as a sector of his mind showed him a picture of a cattle prod.  
  
Parvati held out her hand. "Here, let me help you up."  
  
Clutching her hand, Justin pushed himself to his feet and tried to un-gape.  
  
"I didn't see you there," said Parvati. "I guess you didn't see me either."  
  
I see you all the time. "Thank you."  
  
"You're welcome." She tipped her head to the side and asked, "Hey, don't we both have Transfiguration next?"  
  
Will you go to the dance with me. "Yes, we do."  
  
"Isn't the classroom that way?" Parvati pointed behind him. Justin turned around. There it was: an open door at the other end of the hall. He had walked right past it.  
  
"Yes, it is."  
  
"Well, class starts in a minute, so why were you going this way?"  
  
"Because." Will you go to the dance with me. "Because I. walked. right past it. Er."  
  
"Oh," she said, looking confused. "Alright."  
  
Will you go- shut up, alter ego, Justin thought, and inwardly smirked in satisfaction when his head was empty again. Using a series of hand gestures and monosyllabic sounds, Justin conveyed the message that he wished to walk with Parvati to class.  
  
"Sure," she said. "Come on, we have to hurry."  
  
Will- shut up! "Okay."  
  
They hurried.  
  
-  
  
McGonagall stared at the increasingly jittery Gryffindor. "Excuse me, Weasley?"  
  
Ron, pale-faced, repeated himself. "Neville Longbottom ate my homework."  
  
At the adjacent table, Neville squeaked remorsefully.  
  
"Weasley, if I-"  
  
"I swear, I swear!" Ron exclaimed, jumping out of his seat. "I had the pebbles you gave us and I Transfigured them into Bertie Bott's jellybeans and he ate them!"  
  
"I didn't know!" Neville cried out in anguish. "They were just lying there on the common room table and no one said anything so I thought-"  
  
"I hope they were Skrewt-flavoured, you oafish bastard!" Ron shrieked.  
  
"Weasley!" McGonagall exclaimed, nostrils flaring. "Watch your language! Ten points from Gryffindor!"  
  
"Ah, f-" A sharp look from McGonagall made Ron pause and, after some quick thinking, he settled on ".ffffuzzy yellow ducks."  
  
Justin arranged his homework into the shape of a four-leaf clover, which he thought to be quite clever since he Transfigured his pebbles into four-leaf clovers. A four-leaf clover made of four-leaf clovers. That would knock them dead. Hehe. I am an idiot, Justin concluded.  
  
McGonagall nodded approvingly. "Good work, Justin."  
  
Beside him, Michael Corner snickered. He found it endlessly amusing that over the years Justin became the only Hufflepuff the teachers called by his first name. Professor Flitwick had lasted longer than most, but after the thirty-seventh Flak-Felchly, Justin himself had to restore order.  
  
To Justin's satisfaction, Michael lost points because his marshmallows made clicking sounds when knocked together. Being the good friend he was, Justin offered him a self-satisfied smirk, which Michael gloomily ignored.  
  
Parvati Transfigured her pebbles into flowers. So did Lavender; hers were violets because she was trying to be clever. Parvati, however, had Transfigured them into different kinds of flowers. Justin recognised a daisy, pansy, and a yellow rose, but the names of the other flowers escaped him. Parvati, what kinds of flowers are these? He filed it away under Possible Conversation Topics.  
  
Class resumed as normal, if you didn't count Ron trying to hex Neville when McGonagall's back was turned. A few years ago, Hermione would have scolded him, but now she was too busy trading flirtatious looks with Dean Thomas and slapping away Seamus's hands whenever they got too close to her C-cup breasts.  
  
Justin thought he was crazy to notice, until Susan said she noticed them as well: a bizarre wave of changes in Hogwarts that didn't seem to affect Hufflepuff students. Slytherins, who used to be merely aloof, were now suspected of holding demonic sacrificial rituals in their common room. Except for Draco, who seemed to have developed a penchant for crying about his father and staring longingly at the sky.  
  
The Gryffindors were no less spared. The Boy Who Lived was gay, which was alright, but then there were his friends: Ron the Boy Who Became A Bastard and Hermione the Girl Who Experienced A Spontaneous Makeover And Became The Hottest Girl At Hogwarts. There was also the Ravenclaw Seeker, Cho Chang, who was now Hogwarts number one bitch extraordinaire. Then, of course, now there was this whole Snape thing.  
  
Justin closed his eyes and frantically shoved the thought out of his mind. No sense in unnecessary trauma a second time around.  
  
It was as if a mysterious force took over Hogwarts and completely overlooked the Hufflepuff house.  
  
"You're both daft," said Michael when they told him. "Of course the Hufflepuff house was affected. Didn't you notice a while back when everyone in our house temporarily became fat, blithering idiots?"  
  
They all shuddered.  
  
"You reckon we should be worried?" Susan asked, worried. "Maybe we should talk to Dumbledore."  
  
In the end the three of them decided that on the whole, it seemed harmless enough. At least it made for more interesting gossip. They promised not to bring the subject up again.  
  
Parvati was wearing her silver necklace again today. She had two, and this was the one with the clasp instead of a hook so Justin knew it was dolphin pendant. The delicate chain rested on her neck like. like a. like a delicate chain. on someone's neck.  
  
Justin had never been very good at poetry.  
  
McGonagall instructed them to partner up with their seatmates and Transfigure the cup of water into sand. While Justin was puzzling over the decidedly unsand-like contents of his cup, Michael already Transfigured his. He decided to celebrate the achievement by prying into Justin's private life.  
  
"So why do you like her?" Michael asked.  
  
"Like who?" he said automatically, looking up at the table in front of him. Thankfully, Parvati and Lavender seemed too engrossed in their work to hear.  
  
"Par-ow!"  
  
Justin kept his foot firmly on Michael's, adding pressure. "Speak a little louder, won't you?" he hissed.  
  
"Sensitive, aren't we." Michael gasped, face contorted in pain. "She won't hear-ow! Stop that!"  
  
"Apparently your foot is as sensitive as I am." Justin let him go and turned back to his cup of water. "So you stop it." He repeated the spell in a more resolute tone and tapped the edge of the cup. The water shivered and turned slightly foggy, but that was it. "Stupid transubstantiation." he muttered.  
  
"Maybe you're not saying pronouncing the spell correctly," said Michael.  
  
"Well then help me. We're supposed to be working on it together anyway, aren't we?"  
  
With Michael's help, Justin's water turned into a brown sludge, which they supposed was better than nothing.  
[tbc. u r&r pls?] 


	3. Day 2 Pt 2

**Keywords:** justin slytherin hufflepuff duel hagrid  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Spoilers:** SS/PS, CoS, PoA, GoF  
**Summary:** In which there is a duel, Justin doesn't quite assert confidence, and Michael has a revelation.  
**DISCLAIMER:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.  
**Author notes:** The notes for the first chapter (apologies to slash writers and the Irish) ought to go here, really. I've also been told, in reference to the last chapter, that tic tac toe is actually noughts and crosses in the UK. I apologise fro this, and other lapses of nonBritishisms. Thank you for the reviews so far.  
This chapter takes place on the same day as the previous chapter.  


~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**_Chapter Three \\_**

  
"You _haven't_?" said Susan, eyes wide. It was lunchtime, and Justin wasn't enjoying the reproachful looks his friends were giving him. "The dance is _tomorrow_!"

"Bit strange, don't you think?" said Michael, contemplatively poking at his potatoes. "Hogwarts has never had a Halloween dance before, and suddenly this year - poof! There it is! Doesn't make much sense, does it?"

"Shut up, Michael," scowled Susan.

"But it's true, isn't it? Don't you think it's-"

"Shut up!"

Michael was surprised at her sternness but moved on to safer conversation topics nonetheless. "I thought you _did _ask her," he said to Justin. "After all, the way you two rushed in to class all red-faced and out of breath..."

"I didn't," said Justin, turning red again. The Great Hall was full of laughing, grumbling students, and Justin wished he wasn't with these two particular students. "I didn't ask her and you shouldn't talk, Michael, because you haven't asked anybody either."

"Maybe the girls'll ask me," Michael shrugged. "It's a new era, it happens..."

"You're both pathetic," Susan concluded. "Didn't you just have Transfiguration with her? What were you doing all that time you could've asked her?"

Justin stared at her. "My work."

"Or at least a valiant attempt at it," Michael amended.

By the end of Transfiguration, Michael and Justin didn't get full marks for the classwork because, although Michael's sand was of fine powdery quality and - most importantly - dry, Justin's damp sand didn't make McGonagall too happy.

"You better ask her today," said Susan, slicing her cannelloni. "Hope she hasn't got a date yet."

"I can ask her tomorrow morning," said Justin half-heartedly.

Susan rolled her eyes. "It's just asking a girl a question, for heaven's sake! It's not like she's some sadistic, frigid witch. It's not as if you're some acne-ridden idiot no one likes."

_She's right, you know_, said Justin's rational mind.

_Ah, glad to see you're back in the game_, said the gag reflex.

_Wouldn't be here if it weren't for you_, said the rational mind affectionately. Then with a hint of professional pride it said, _Now if you don't mind, I've got a job to do!_

_Of course_, the gag reflex smiled.

_Ahem. So Justin, really, why would she say no to you?_

Because, thought Justin.

_You're not stupid and you're not ugly, and you're both already sort of friends, which, if you think about it, is better than being good friends because then the whole boyfriend-girlfriend thing would mess with dynamics._

But, thought Justin.

_She smiles at you in the halls._

She smiles at everyone in the halls. Besides, I can't talk to her properly. Like this afternoon before Transfiguration. Ah, for god's sake, this afternoon...

_That was this afternoon. You've talked with her normally before, haven't you?_

Well, er, yes, I guess, but after this afternoon, what would she think-

_It was just one mistake in one afternoon. Your mistakes don't dictate who you are. Your failings are only a part of you, not all of you. Just look at Ernie Macmillan._

Well... yes, but what would she think-

_You wouldn't be worrying so much about what other people think of you if you knew how little they do. You're a good person, Justin Finch-Fletchley. Don't let it go to waste._

Justin stared broodingly into his mushroom soup, mulling over possibilities and probabilities. Would he? Could he? Somewhere in his subconscious, the gag reflex shook the rational mind's hand with a congratulatory grin.

_Good work up there_.

_Oh, not at all_, said the rational mind humbly. _All in a day's work, eh? Really, kids these days..._

_Reckon you need to go back up there and kick him around a bit more?_

_No, I think he can figure it out from here._

It was worth it surely, thought Justin. It was worth Parvati's smile, her soft-bright eyed smile of which he was gratefully on the receiving end more times than he thought he deserved. It was worth Parvati's hand in his. It was worth Parvati in his arms, which he experienced once in his second year after they revived him from the basilisk encounter. Well-wishers gave him backslaps, handshakes, and hugs, and Parvati had just been a face in a crowd then, but now he knew to appreciate it should it happen again. It was worth Parvati's understated grace, worth the musical way she spoke the English language, worth her... her kiss? Would she kiss him?

Justin perished the thought for fear it wouldn't come true.

"It's not as if this will have some permanent debilitating effect on you," said Susan, as if Justin's inaction was a personal insult. "Even if she says no, you'll both probably forget about it in a few weeks and things will go back to normal."

"Such beautiful logic," said Michael. Justin couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or not.

"You don't have a bloody date either, Michael, so shut up," said Justin. But it _was _beautiful logic. After all, didn't Parvati seem particularly pretty today? Didn't she still say goodbye and 'maybe you'll get the spell next time' to him after class even if he _had _been a conversational idiot today?

Justin stood up.

"Oh, where are you going, then?" asked Susan.

The words 'to ask Parvati to the dance' were on the tip of his tongue but he was knocked off his feet by an explosion from the Slytherin table.

Terrified yells resounded throughout the Great Hall, especially from the Slytherins, most of who, if they haven't fallen off their chairs, were quickly running for the doors or under the other house's tables. Plates of food and goblets of juice have fallen off the table, littering the floor and staining robes. On opposite ends of the tabletop stood Arialynne and Pansy Parkinson, wands at the ready and looking particularly homicidal.

"What's going on?" Justin asked from the floor, and yelled in surprise as a Slytherin slipped on some lasagna and fell in a heap beside him.

"Oh, mummy!" whimpered the Slytherin, and threw his arms around Justin in a terrified embrace. Justin recognised him as Graham Pritchard, a boy who, despite being a few years below him, can apparently hug like nobody's business. Justin thought his ribs would break.

"Let me go!" Justin gasped, and applied all the necessary hitting actions until Graham did so. "What's going on?"

Pansy Parkinson sharply yelling a curse, followed by a brilliant flash of light, interrupted Pritchard's answer. Arialynne blocked the curse, causing another blinding light flash, as well as a few deep rumbles that students could feel through the floor. An unspoken agreement between Justin and Graham had them both cowering in relative safety under the Hufflepuff table before any answers were given.

"Pansy Parkinson insulted Muggles," said Graham.

"Is that it?" Justin frowned. "But she does that all the time."

"But Arialynne's a Muggle, see, so they never really got on in the first place," Graham further explained. "Not to mention Pansy's been in love with Draco since first year, so she didn't like it when Arialynne showed up and became his best friend, because then they started spending all their time together, talking about how he doesn't have any real friends he can talk to until Arialynne came along." Graham took a deep breath. "So, Pansy feels left out."

"Malfoy friends with a Muggle?" Justin repeated, goggle-eyed. "Thought he couldn't stand them."

"But-"

"He even went so far as to charm my hat to say 'Muggles fuck sheep' whenever I put it on!" Justin added bitterly. "I mean, sure, that may be true in some parts of the world..."

"He doesn't hate Muggles anymore," said Graham. "Arialynne's made him see the light. Kind of like how she made him gay so he'll make out with Potter while she takes pictures. He's a new man, Draco is. He's a redeemed Draco."

More fireworks and sound effects interrupted their exchange. Graham yelped and grabbed onto Justin again. Justin couldn't see who cast the spell but assumed it was Arialynne because Pansy was now yelling angry swear words.

"So, er..." said Justin. "This duel here..."

"Well, it was a long time coming, really," said Graham. "I mean, Pansy is _such_ a bitch, and Arialynne is _so_ noble and valiant and loyal and all that and, you know, it would figure, wouldn't it?"

Another explosion shook the hall and the boys yelled as the table collapsed on top of them.

"Bloody hell!" Justin gasped, wriggling out from under the tabletop. "The teachers ought to do something about this, don't you think? Graham? Graham?" Sighing wearily, Justin slipped back under the table and dragged the young Slytherin out by his leg.

"Ooooh, I'll feel that one in the morning," Graham moaned, clutching his head.

"Come on, let's get out of here."

Dodging stray bolts of magic, slippery bits of food, and puddles of pumpkin juice, the two boys made their way for the doors, only to find it congested by a throng of students clamouring to get out and away from the angry magic behind them.

"We won't be able to get through that," said Graham, looking worriedly at the crowd. Behind them, the Slytherin banner caught fire and the smell of burning ensured the chaos continuance.

"The teachers ought to do something about them!" Justin cried out, dragging Graham away before they were trampled. "This is crazy! Those girls can kill someone and no one's doing anything about it!"

"The teachers are busy trying to get the students not to panic."

"Wouldn't that work so much better if the _source _of panic was dealt with?"

"Yeah, but... but... but Justin!"

"What!"

The young Slytherin looked at him with a steely gaze that disturbed Justin for a reason he couldn't fathom. "You mustn't talk about such things, Justin," said Graham. "You mustn't."

There was a cry from Pansy as she was knocked off the table by flashing purple lights shooting out of Arialynne's wand. Arialynne hopped nimbly off the table and encased Pansy in a silver globe, slowly levitating it. Her concentration was broken when Pansy retaliated by splitting the ground beneath her feet.

"Where'd they learn magic like that, anyway?" Justin said, gawping. "They're just kids! They can't even legally buy pornography yet."

"Oh, Pansy knows it because her parents are Death Eaters," said Graham as they began to run from the widening crack in the floor, "so she knows all about the newest evil spells. As for Arialynne, well, who knows? Must've come from the same place as her mysterious healing powers and shiny hair."

"Right," said Justin, whose question had been rhetorical. "Um, I think we should go to the far wall and try that cowering-under-tables bit again."

"Okay."

So they did.

"How long do you think they'll go on for?" asked Graham. "A few of my housemates took wagers on this duel long ago. Zabini's guessed the day of the duel correctly, but Warrington's going to get big pay-offs for guessing that Arialynne'd throw the first spell."

Justin was about to reply when he noticed a large dark shape against the opposite wall slowly making its way to the duelling Slytherins.

It was Hagrid.

Justin looked on curiously as the groundskeeper-cum-professor approach Pansy and Arialynne in what was decidedly a sneaky manner. He was carrying a bundle of something in his hand, and looking very determined. Justin got the strangest sensation of déjà vu.

Hagrid stopped behind the overturned Gryffindor table and untied the bundle he had been carrying. Its contents made Justin's stomach churn.

Rock cakes. Huge, lumpy, anti-orthodontic rock cakes. Justin remembered these cakes. Last year before Christmas holidays, Hagrid baked a batch and served it to his Care of Magical Creatures class as a pre-Yuletide treat. Justin remembered these cakes very well. His teeth ached from the memory of it.

He watched as Hagrid arranged the rock cakes in a column beside him, then he took out a pencil from his pocket and began scribbling mathematical calculations on the bottom of the table. He paused occasionally to estimate distances or weigh a rock cake in his hands, crossing out numbers and correcting values.

"What's Hagrid doing, you reckon?" Graham asked.

"We'll soon see," Justin murmured, and ducked as a particularly powerful curse sent flying debris in every direction.

Unperturbed, Hagrid peeked out from behind the table after the dust has cleared and checked the position of the Slytherin girls. He licked a finger and stuck it in the air, and, after a nod of satisfaction at the wind direction, he drew back his arm and threw the rock cake in a perfect arc at Pansy Parkinson's head. There was a 'thok!' noise, a few seconds of silence, and a crashing sound as Pansy fell over backwards unconscious. There were a few more seconds of silence as the students gauged the new situation.

George Weasley jumped out from the crowd with a finger pointing at a startled Arialynne, declaring, "Arialynne beat Parkinson! She beat Parkinson in the duel!"

The students and teachers burst into wild applause as the victorious Slytherin quickly caught up with the state of affairs. She smiled at them and began her obligatory speech. "I didn't know I had it in me, really," she blubbered. "I'm usually a friendly person, but that Pansy Parkinson makes me so _mad _with all her sheep-fucking jokes..."

Hagrid, who was just about to throw a second rock cake at Arialynne, gaped at the turn of events. After the gaping, however, came the look of seething fury. Before he could protest, people began to stampede to Arialynne bearing praise and adoration.

"Arialynne!" Draco cried out. "How can I ever thank you? That girl has been a thorn in my side for ages..."

"That was almost as great as the time you told me about having to face your childhood traumas!" Lupin exclaimed.

"My heart shivered with fear when I saw you!" Snape bellowed, not to be outdone. "If you had been hurt in any way, I wouldn't be able to forgive myself, my love!"

"Autographs! Autographs!" yelled the rest of the mob, ignoring Lupin's sputters of protest.

"Bloody good aim, that Hagrid," Graham commented casually. "So he _is _useful for something other than keeping grounds. Any idiot can keep grounds, really. My father keeps grounds everywhere in England, and some in Wales, and we're making lots of Galleons from them. Sometimes he gets other people to keep the grounds for him, but if they can't pay up, then he hires a couple of goblins, preferably Sicilian ones, to make sure they do."

"Uh-huh," said Justin, not bothering to correct Graham's skewed perception of real estate. He crawled out from under the table and looked around for his friends.

Justin noticed that Michael was among Arialynne's mob of fans. He bid goodbye to Graham and went to rescue his fellow Hufflepuff.

"Michael!" Justin hissed, tugging him out of the throng. "What are you doing?"

"Show us your brea... er, what?" Michael blinked and looked confusedly at Justin, then at the mob. "What?"

"You lost yourself there," said Justin.

"Bloody hell..." Michael shook his head, trying to clear it. "I shouldn't like to do this again in a hurry... Gosh, Justin-"

He was interrupted by a shrill "How _could_ you, Severus?!" and what sounded suspiciously like a slap.

"Come on," said Michael. "Let's get out of here before they crowd the doors again."

"You go on ahead," said Justin, who was still feeling a bit out of it. Even better, he was lucid enough to realise he was feeling out of it, and lucid enough to know to try and remain in this state. Because, really, a touch of unreality never hurt if you were about to ask the girl you liked to the dance.

Michael put a hand on his shoulder. "You sure?"

"Yeah..." said Justin, and wandered off to search for brown-skinned students wearing red and yellow ties.

So Parvati, I was wondering if you would go to the dance with me? Those words sounded good. Now would he actually be able to get them past his lips? Wait! No! No negative thoughts! No thinking at all! Maintain stupor until you find pretty Indian girl wearing fire-coloured tie...

The mob began to dissipate. Justin wove around the people who began to trickle out the doorway of the Great Hall, keeping his visual focus empty until he spotted his target. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Snape looking irritated as a tearful Lupin yelled at him ("Come off it, Remus. I knew you were sleeping with Black behind my back anyway." "At least Sirius is _legal_, you bastard!"). He saw Hagrid crumble his rock cakes to dust in his hand. He saw Ron Weasley randomly hex students left and right. Justin walked around the people on the floor with jelly legs and body-binds until he finally saw her.

The air of unreality gave a squeal of terror and scampered away, leaving Justin very much alone.

_No no no don't give up now!_screamed his rational mind, rushing to deal with the emergency situation. _You're so close! Are you going to give up just because you don't have anything to hide behind anymore?_

...Maybe.

_No, dammit, no! Get up there or I'll fetch your gag reflex with the cattle prod_.

Justin frowned. What?

_Nothing. Er. Right-o, then. Left leg forward!_

Justin's left leg clumsily took a step.

_Right leg forward! Left leg! Forward march!_

Justin slowly approached the Gryffindor girl, who currently had her back to him, with slow awkward steps.

"Strangest lunch hour we've had in a while," said Parvati to Seamus beside her.

"Something like that, eh?" said Seamus. "Torched up the Slytherin banner pretty good, didn't they?"

"Put a bloody big hole in the ground pretty good, didn't they?"

"Mmm. I wonder where we'll eat now."

"Aren't we going to have the Halloween dance here tomorrow? It'd be kind of crap with the hole around." She paused, taking in the scene. "At least if we get bored we can take turns shoving Slytherins in it."

"Sounds good," said Seamus, shrugging. "Which reminds me. Do you want to go to the dance with me?"

"Yeah, alright."

"Cool."

Oh... bugger.

Seamus and Parvati continued their conversation, dismissing the strangled anguished wail behind them as another one of Ron's victims.

-

Justin Finch-Fletchley stepped into the Hufflepuff common room that evening and was dismayed to see his housemates gossiping around the fire. It wasn't quite the presence of his friends, or the temporary repositioning of furniture to make a semicircle around the grate, that got him down. No, he quite liked his friends, so as far as he was concerned they could do what they like to the furniture.

The dismay began approximately six hours and twenty-seven minutes ago, when Justin didn't quite ask Parvati Patil to the Halloween dance. It had all been downhill from there. He was dismayed to learn in Herbology that the flower of the African Bullweed can cure blindness. He was dismayed to notice in History of Magic class that Tracey Davis was wearing yellow socks. He was dismayed when he walked into Snape and Arialynne reciting romantic clichés in the halls, but for slightly different reasons.

It wasn't that big of a jump for him to be dismayed at the gathering of Hufflepuffs in their own common room.

Susan was the first to notice him and enthusiastically waved him over.

"Sit over here," said Hannah Abbott, already scooting over to make room for him on the couch.

"No, that's okay," Justin said vaguely. "I think I'll go lie down a bit. I've had a bad day."

"We all have, what with that light show during lunch," said Ernie dourly. "What makes you different? Put on different-coloured socks today? Must be the end of the world!"

Justin lifted his robe. "I am?"

"No, you idiot!" laughed Michael. "Come here. We've got a nice discussion going."

Against his better judgment, Justin approached them and squeezed in next to Laura.

"So, what do you think of her?" Hannah asked him.

"Who?"

"Arialynne! The new girl! The lights-show girl!"

"She can hardly be called new," Michael pointed out. "She's been here since the beginning of the term, though she did look a bit silly being the only non-first-year who put on the Sorting Hat."

Justin blurted out the first thing that came to his mind. "She's shagging Snape."

The group made various noises, all of which meant 'bleagh.'

"You're kidding!" said Ernie, making a face. "Snape?! How did _that _happen?"

"Actually I've heard her say he was darkly handsome," said Eleanor Branstone mysteriously. "She said he was beautifully disturbed and looked tortured like Trent Razor."

"_Who?_"

"Reznor," Justin corrected. "Trent Reznor."

"Who the hell's-"

"I can understand darkly handsome - maybe - but dis-"

"Hold on, shut up," said Ernie. "Justin, who the hell's this Trent Reznor bloke?"

"Er, he's a Muggle musician. He's famous though his fans don't really want him to be." Justin struggled to remember what he could of Muggle life, much of which has slipped away since Hogwarts. "Goths like him.

Hannah frowned. "Goths? You mean those old Germanic tribes in-"

"No, no," said Justin. "Goths are, er, a subculture, kind of." He surveyed the blank looks before him. "They're perpetually sad for questionable reasons and write bad poetry about the unfairness of existence and the state of their love lives."

There was a collective "Ahh" of understanding. "Ginny Weasley."

"No, no! Ginny's not a goth!" Justin said. "There's more! They wear pasty make-up! They dye their hair constantly and worship one they call Neil Gaiman and-"

"So anyway," said Hannah, waving his words away. "Back to Arialynne. Look, I can kind of understand wanting to shag darkly handsome, but disturbed and tortured?" She shuddered.

"Well, some people are into that," shrugged Susan. "You can't really fault them for it, Laura."

"Snape's the one doing the disturbing and torturing," said Ernie bitterly. "Took away points just because my potion turned his skin purple."

"A bit of colour would do him good anyway," said Hannah, and everyone laughed, except Justin.

"But, you see, Professor Snape has developed an emotional dependency on Arialynne," Eleanor piped up. "He's convinced she's his salvation, you see, and thinks he can absolve past sins in the pureness of her love and the versatility of her tongue."

"Too much information!" Michael shrieked, hands over his ears.

"Eleanor, where the hell do you get all this?" gawped Ernie.

"I overheard her confessing to Draco in tears as they were shagging in the broom closet."

"Malfoy?" Susan repeated, bug-eyed. "I thought he was gay! Isn't he shagging Potter?"

"He's _gay_?" Hannah frowned. "Since when?"

"Of course he's gay," scoffed Ernie. "What, you think that's just a fantasy made up by sexually repressed heterosexual teenaged girls with nothing better to do? Draco Malfoy's gayer than Christmas!" He paused contemplatively. "Well, in light of this new information, I guess he's bi."

"So she's shagging Hogwarts's slimiest teacher _and_ its hottest student," Susan mused.

"Wait a minute," Hannah cut in. "Hottest student? Malfoy? All the little prat does is go on about his father and pull pranks on unsuspecting Gryffindors!"

Michael sighed. "Hannah, Hannah, Hannah. So behind on the times!"

"What do you mean?" Hannah demanded.

"Well, actually I think Malfoy is rather cute," said Susan resolutely, turning red.

"If you like stick-thin and rat-like," Michael muttered.

"What about Malfoy?" Hannah repeated.

"What about Terry Boot, eh?" said Anthony, waggling his eyebrows.

"I said I thought Malfoy was cute, not that I would shag him!" Susan snapped. "Terry and I are doing fine, _thank_ you very much."

"_Oy! _What's happening with Malfoy?" Hannah exclaimed. "What's going on?"

"He's not a 'prat' anymore, Hannah," said Eleanor knowingly. "He only acted that way because his father doesn't really love him. Deep down inside, he is a sensitive soul who plays the piano, solves Arithmancy problems for fun, and has all sorts of other artistic and intellectual inclinations that the typical bully ought not have. He's a redeemed Draco Malfoy."

During the course of the conversation, the dull buzz in Justin's head had developed into a full-blown headache. Mumbling an excuse, he slipped out of the common room and up to his room, much to the concern of exactly no one.

-

_H__ow's our boy doing?_asked the gag reflex.

_Not very good_, sighed the rational mind. _I'm afraid he's not taking the rejection very well._

_He didn't even get rejected._

_You know what I mean._

_Yeah, well_, said the gag reflex. _So what's he doing now?_

_Trying to sleep._

_Trying to?_

_You want to know what's going through his mind?_

The gag reflex shrugged. _Sure._

The rational mind displayed a series of images for the gag reflex to see, most of which showed Parvati Patil saying, "Yeah, alright." There were some of Justin kissing Parvati. There were some of Seamus kissing Parvati. There were some of Justin beating Seamus with a hot-iron skillet.

_Hmm_, said the gag reflex thoughtfully.

_That's what I thought_, said the rational mind. _Hey, do us a favour won't you, and call your boss up here. I want to see what he's up to._

_Alright_, said the gag reflex. A few seconds later, the id clambered up into Justin Finch-Fletchley's mental plane.

_What's going on, old man?_ asked the rational mind.

_Headache. Ow. Headache. Ow. Seamus. Kill. Kill, _droned the id._ Stupid Irish..._

_...Right then. Off you go, _said the rational mind. When the id had gone, it turned to the gag reflex and said, _You can be doing so much better than that bloke, honestly. Disgusting, some organisations these days..._

The gag reflex sighed. _Yeah, maybe, but what're you gonna do, y'know? I'm not in charge of the system. _After an uncomfortable pause, it added_, So do you think the boy's going to be alright?_

_Of course he's going to be alright. It was a girl, not Ebola. He'll get over her eventually. _The rational mind quieted as if checking on something. _There, you see? He's starting to drop off to sleep already._

_Reckon he'll dream?_

_'Course._

_What kind of dreams?_

_That's not really my department, _said the rational mind_. Hold on a bit. I'll get this sorted_

_There was a few moment's pause and then--_

_You called? _said the subconscious, sauntering in_. Whatsit now?_

_Dreams, of course, _said the rational mind_._

_Thought so. What kind?_

_Well, the memories of the day are sitting right there, _said the gag reflex_. So you just go look through them, find something nice._

The subconscious sifted through the memories like it was shuffling cards. _Bloody hell. I'm glad I'm just a metaphysical projection of a human's mental state. Look at the things this one has to put up with._

_Well? _prompted the rational mind.

_I think, _said the subconscious_, I can make up a dream where he's on the edge of the cliff, and it's night and there's lots of rain. Then suddenly there's a flash of lightning and the ground gives way beneath his feet, and he falls. _It looked at the other metaphysical projections of Justin's mental state. _What do you think of that?_

The other two exchanged glances.

_But, _said the gag reflex_, that's the one you do every night._

The subconscious shrugged. _What's your point?_

-

"Hold on!" exclaimed Michael Corner, sitting bolt upright in bed in the middle of the night. "McGonagall's homework!"

"What is it, Corner?" came a groan from Ernie's bed.

"Her homework!" Michael sputtered. "The Transfiguration homework! It makes no sense!"

More boys began to wake, swearing loudly, roused by Michael's nocturnal epiphany.

"I mean, she told us to Transfigure the pebbles for homework, right?" said Michael. "But how would she know if we really Transfigured them or not? How is she to know if Ron just nicked a couple of jellybeans from his mum's care package to replace the ones Neville ate? How would she know if Lavender just went out to the garden to pick the violets?"

"Shut up, Corner," growled Anthony Goldstein.

"We're trying to sleep here," said Wayne Hopkins.

"But don't you guys think-"

"No," said Anthony. "We don't. Good night."

Michael settled back into his covers with a frown on his face. When he finally fell to sleep, it was a fitful one.


End file.
